


Macroix

by prophetesss



Series: Original Characters [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Anders stop blowing up chantries, Awkward Cullen, Blood and Gore, Death, Detailed Gore, During Canon, Gen, Platonic Cuddling, Platonic Kissing, Platonic Relationships, Platonic Romance, Slow Burn, So much death, So much violence, many tears
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-21
Updated: 2017-02-21
Packaged: 2018-09-25 22:53:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9850238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prophetesss/pseuds/prophetesss
Summary: Cullen doesn't like street performers. They're weird. This one just confirms his suspicion.





	1. The Gallows Courtyard

**Author's Note:**

> oof alec benjamin and sia make me feel something F I E R C E

Cullen didn’t care much for street performers. They weren’t doing anything wrong, it’s just that they were weird and Cullen didn’t understand them. A lot of them did those tricks like sword-swallowing and fire eating, which frankly didn’t sound safe aT ALL. I mean, anything to grab an audience but couldn’t they do it with something that didn’t endanger their life? It quite scared him. Plus there was the huge possibility some of them were apostates in disguise. That simply terrified him. And another thing that terrified him was that they always seemed to pop up in the Gallows or at the Docks, where he spent the majority of his time on guard. You think they’d all flock to Hightown to try and get some actual coin but noooooo. They had to irritate Cullen in the Gallows.  
The day had started out normal: got up, did morning things and went out to patrol the city. As he got to the Gallows, there was a small gathering of people around some of the pillars where an empty stall area was available. A couple noises of admiration and surprise floated from them, but it wasn’t a big crowd so Cullen didn’t have to interfere. The blond took his position across the courtyard, suspiciously eyeing the little crowd every now and then.  
By afternoon, the crowd had steadily turned into a great mob of people, shouts of wonder ringing throughout the Gallows courtyard. Cullen didn’t want to interfere, the possibility of what the crowd was ogling at daunted him. He expectantly glanced at Thrask, who stood by the stairs to the city, but the older man’s eyes were milky with daydream. Yeah, Thrask wasn’t about to help. Cullen heaved a great sigh of exasperation and stormed over to the mob of commoners (and one or two nobles maybe).

“Okay, break it up, break it up. What’s going on here?” A woman, whom Cullen recognized as Lady Elegant responded, face lit with joy and wonder.

“This boy’s dancing is incredible!” Cullen groaned inwardly. A street performer. He pushed through the gaggle, muttering a pardon every once in awhile til he got to the center. The man stopped. A young boy was dancing but he already knew that. It was the way the boy was dancing. Unlike anything Cullen had seen before, but he honestly hadn’t seen anything other than those fancy dances at the various salons Templars were often invited to. No, this dance was unique. Some of the movements were jerky and choppy, others fluid as silk in a light breeze and both combined resulted in a dance that was strangely gorgeous and delicate. Like a feather. It was...beautifully cryptic and off-putting, in a way.  
Cullen gave his head a little shake before focusing on the boy instead of his hypnotic dance. He was young, no older than 14 yet his chin length hair was a silvery white-blond. Honestly, he looked like a skeleton. His pale flesh was stretched thin over his small bones and his ribs reached out towards the group of people when he leaned back to reveal his face to the cerulean sky. The parts of the boy’s face that weren’t covered by his choppy, messy bangs were smudged with dirt and dust, painting his milk white skin brown. The boy wore minimal clothes for flexibility, a dirty periwinkle leotard with smudged white sleeves on his thin arms and strong legs. A gold band wrapped around his left bicep, glinting playfully in the cold Free Marcher sun. The youth had threadbare slippers on his bruised feet which, once, must have been a gorgeous flower-petal pink but were now a dusty grey.  
Such poor condition this sad little boy was in. The blond man felt his lyrium-infused heart break a little and before he knew what he was doing, Cullen reached into his money pouch and threw two silvers and a copper onto the dirty plaidweave blanket that was neatly laid out on the cobblestone to catch coins. Cullen would have watched the teen dance til the late hours of night, but as soon as the huge clock near the city gates struck two, the silver haired boy ceased his dancing and glanced at the clock. Dropping to his knees, the boy muttered a raspy thank you, gathering all the coins into the center of the square cloth and tying all the ends together to the end of a stick. The incredibly thin boy gave a little bow from his shoulders before making his way back through the gates of the city.  
The people started dispersing, nobles and commoners going every which way. Cullen dazedly went back to his post, hardly believing what he had witnessed. Something about the boy made Cullen feel nostalgic, made him miss his home in Honnleath. That night, Cullen fell into his bed and sunk into a dreamless slumber.


	2. Bony Angel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen gets to know the boy's name and grows even more suspicious.

The next morning, Cullen had risen from a turn-tossing night. He hadn’t slept well at all with the darn teen plaguing his thoughts. And the boy was there again, dancing across the Gallows courtyard from Cullen. It was almost teasing this time, mocking Cullen for falling into something so obviously not right. It was clearly not normal. The mysterious, creepy aura around the boy resonated sorrow and it _wasn’t right_. The blond templar tried to look away as much as possible, to not get distracted, but it was pretty hard with all the ‘ooh’s and ‘aah’s from the throng of people across from him. At around the same time as yesterday, Cullen heaved another sigh and found his way back with the people, eyes transfixed on the skinny teen’s dance.

Clearly a trap, clearly a trap, clearly a-

    The boy’s eyes met his. Pale, dull slush was what they looked like, encircled by deep purple bags. The way the teen barely kept his eyes open made him look like he was dead, or more normally, disinterested. In a dead way. A chill sped up the templar’s spine. The eyes were so cold. Like glass. A deep, eternal sheet of pure glass. It was...unnerving, to say the least. Cullen felt frozen, like he shouldn’t take his eyes off them. Time seemed to slow down, the dead stare holding him in its icy clutches. And then...the boy did a quick spin, breaking eye contact.

Cullen didn’t know how to react. He felt somewhat violated, though the boy did nothing to him. Nothing to him physically besides freak him out. The clock struck two again and the boy started packing up just after Cullen quickly threw in some spare change. He hadn’t noticed before, but the boy’s hands were in terrible shape. Dirt was caked under his long nails and his knuckles were scabbed and bruised with some scabs peeling. This boy looked utterly broken and rundown. And at such a young age too. No matter how many times you see this, it’s very nerve-wracking. 

As Cullen returned to his post, he noticed the boy was no longer parallel with him. Sure, he could’ve ran through the gates, but Cullen would have noticed his ghostly form slinking back. It was odd, much too odd for Cullen. He didn’t like it. He straightened his back and stood in front of the pillar, trying to rid the thought from his head. Falling back into the quietness, it sounded deafening but familiar. The blond sighed for a seemingly no good reason and relaxed his tense shoulders a little.

“You’re tired.” The sudden voice made Cullen jump and bite back a yelp, swallowing it thickly. He turned and saw dull grey-blue eyes. He let out a tense breath.

“Y-Yeah, what of it?” Coming out from behind the pillar, the boy seated himself beside Cullen’s legs, the stick with his money resting on his shoulder.

  
“It’s not healthy. Ya gotta sleep well.” Cullen wrinkled his nose. His sleeping patterns shouldn’t matter to this kid. The silver haired urchin noticed Cullen’s reluctance to speak, so he changed the subject to something less bizarre. Like an introduction.

“M’name’s Macroix. It’s hard to pronounce, so you can just call me Mac. You?” Cullen bit his lip, debating whether or not to respond with his own name. Finally, seeing no problem with it, he said his name back.

“Cullen.” Mac gave a little snort.

“Sounds fancy. You from somewhere fancy?” Cullen shrugged, feeling the slightest bit more relaxed.

“Not really. Honnleath.” Mac hummed.

“That in Ferelden?”

“Yep.” Mac hummed again, nodding his head a little. 

  
“I’m from someplace fancy. Somewhere in Orlais. Val somethin’, but that’s every name there.” Cullen couldn’t have agreed more. 

The two made idle (and awkward) small talk til the sun had just about set. Mac crinkled his face up, glancing through the huge chains that could be seen through the Gallows. The pale boy stood up shakily, most likely because of lack of food.

“I oughta get going before Norah gets angry. I’m usually back before sundown.” Mac looked over to Cullen and gave the blond man a smile.

“Seeya tomorrow, Cullen.” The silver haired urchin gave a little snicker while saying his name, the reason unknown. Cullen barely got a wave out before Mac was halfway across the courtyard and still heading towards the stairs. In the fading light, he looked like an angel. A gorgeous, mysterious, bony angel.


End file.
